Chapter 5 #3
Declan hoisted a large box of butter, turned and spotted Lily walking down the sidewalk from the direction of the hotel and lifting her sunglasses onto the top of her head.
Her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, today she wore cut-off jean shorts and a T-shirt that accentuated her curvy, feminine figure.
How annoying that he noticed.
“You’re late, and the butter is melting.”
“Calm down, Slick. I saw Luke and I hustled over.” She unlocked the door and propped it open. “Happy?”
His reply was a grunt as he headed inside and on through the door that led to the kitchen, stacking the boxes on the counter. He’d move them into the refrigerator once he’d brought everything else inside.
When he returned to the road, Lily was reading the box labels. She shot him a narrow-eyed look. “You addressed them to Kelley’s Classic Fudge? Really, Declan?”
“I had to create an account with the supply company, so of course I used the name of our LLC.” He sighed. “Do you have to make everything a battle?”
“You’re the one who suggested the battle—I mean competition—in the first place. Not me.” She walked toward the door, and in her wake he caught a strong whiff of disdain woven with the annoying notes of an alluring floral.
Focus.
“It was the only fair thing I could think of at the time. But believe me, I am deeply regretting not just waiting for Seb to return so he could give me the shop outright.”
“Ha! You’re assuming a lot there, buster.”
“Come on, Lily.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. This woman. Seriously. “Can we please pretend to get along? This is exhausting.”
“Pretend? Sure, I can pretend to not despise you for trying to steal my family’s company. Let’s get this stuff moved.” Lily heaved a large box from the trailer.
“You’re going to hurt yourself. Let me take that one.”
“Nope.” And there she went, carrying it through the door she’d propped open and into the kitchen, bypassing the counter where he’d stacked his boxes, and headed straight for the walk-in refrigerator.
He jogged ahead of her and opened the fridge door. Blinked at what he saw inside. “Is that tape?” Blue painter’s tape had been placed down the wall and across the floor of the cooler, splitting the space in half.
She dropped her load on the line. “It is. That’s Kelley-land.” She pointed to the far side. “You keep all your cold ingredients over there. Don’t touch mine.”
“Drawing the literal battle lines, are we?”
She shrugged. “Gotta protect my stuff.”
Did she really think he would mess with her ingredients? Sure, he wanted to beat her, but he wasn’t a cheater. “Let me guess—the dry goods storage is similarly delineated?”
She folded her arms. “Of course.”
“Fine. If that’s how you want to play it. Maybe we should divide the front of shop too.”
“That’s my plan. I just ran out of tape.”
“That’s going to look really professional.
Nice.” Shaking his head, Declan followed her out of the cooler, back to the street, where they continued hauling in their order of butter, sugar, cream, chocolate, nuts, and the rest of their raw materials, placing cold things into the fridge and everything else on the open counters surrounding the edges of the kitchen.
By the time he carried in the last box, waved to Luke as he pulled away, and closed the door, Lily had grabbed a utility knife and was already opening up the boxes. “I’m going to start sorting the order.”
“I’ll help. We should start with those bags of sugar, though.” They had a stack of fifty-pound bags. He grabbed his clipboard while she sliced open the various boxes. “Just tag them with an H or K and I’ll move them later.”
“I can carry them too.”
“I know you can. I just don’t want you using the excuse that you injured yourself as the reason you lost.”
“Not gonna happen, because I’m not going to lose.”
“Can we just get this done? Preferably in silence? I’m starting to get a headache.”
She pursed her lips. “Fine by me.”
“Good.”
“Great.”
And now they were back to the arctic freeze, and maybe he deserved that. In silence, Lily worked through all the boxes and bags, dividing, labeling, and moving them.
After an hour or two, he glanced over at Lily as she yawned. Flexed her hand before lifting the knife to the tape on the box that was poised on the edge of the counter. Her fingers trembled a bit.
And he shouldn’t have taken pity on her, he knew. But still. Declan stood and stretched, holding out a hand. “Here. I’ll take a turn with the knife.”
“So you can stab me in the back?” Lily stayed focused on the box, not even bothering to look his way. “No thanks.”
“Don’t be so stubborn.”
“Not being stubborn. I’m fine.” She sliced through the box just like she’d done several times already.
Except this time, the knife skidded down the cardboard and kept going, cutting right across the top of her knee. Lily yelped and dropped the box cutter. Bright crimson pooled and dripped from her leg onto the floor.
And she just stood there, staring at it, blinking.
“Lily!” Declan grabbed a freshly laundered cleaning rag and rushed over, lifting her onto the counter without thinking about it. He then knelt, pressing the rag to her wound and holding it snug to stop the bleeding.
She grimaced. “Stop. I don’t need your help.” Except her words didn’t match her actions, because she just leaned back on her elbows and lay perfectly still while Declan cradled her leg.
“Clearly, you do.” He held tight. “Are you going to faint at the sight of blood?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d probably just leave me here to bleed out.”
Really? “Tempting as that is, it wouldn’t be good for business.”
“You’re only half joking.” She let out another groan when he shifted the pressure.
“Am I hurting you?”
She closed her eyes. “It isn’t you. I mean, it hurts, but not from the pressure.” A grunt. “Ugh. I can’t believe I did that.” She swiped away a stray tear from her cheek with her other hand.
He lifted the rag away for a moment. Yikes. “It’s definitely going to need stitches.”
“You think?” She smeared another tear across her face, this time taking a smudge of black mascara with it.
“We need to get you to the clinic.”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
Hmm. “Good point.” The clinic was northeast of here. All the way down Main Street and then a little ways up Blueberry Boulevard, past Blueberry Hill Park, near the police and fire station and the public school.
In other words, too far for her to walk with this injury. A bike was probably out of the question too.
“I have an idea. Don’t go anywhere.” Tying the rag around her knee, he started toward the back alley door.
“Where exactly am I gonna go?” Then, with less bravado, “Dec?”
The old nickname, said with such timidity—even, dare he say, softness?—did something to his heart. He paused, turned. “Yeah, Lil?”
“Hurry, please.”
He chuckled. “That hurt to say, didn’t it?”
Her face paled as she opened her eyes and looked at him, and man, he felt bad for teasing her.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said. “And yes, I’ll hurry. Because as much as it would help my odds exponentially to have you stuck in ICU with some sort of gangrenous infection—which might even be some sort of poetic justice—I am too much of a gentleman to allow that.”
“Ha. You. A gentleman.”
He lifted a shoulder. “Believe what you like. Now I’m going to go save the day, if you don’t mind.” Declan stepped into the alleyway and headed for Jonathon Boulevard, jogging up the road until he reached his parents’ house.
Thankfully, nobody was home as he snatched the keys off the rack in the foyer and headed out to the western side of the house where Mom and Dad’s golf cart sat covered. He pulled back the covering, praying there was enough gas left from the winter months when they’d last used it.
Declan inserted the key and breathed a sigh of relief when the engine sputtered and finally rumbled to life.
Now to just drive this thing without getting caught.
He eased off the gravel path and onto Poppy Place, eyes scanning this way and that for anyone who might scold him for illegal use of a golf cart during the season. Thankfully, the coast was clear—a sheer miracle given that it was a Saturday afternoon and plenty of people were likely home.
The drive to the alley behind the fudge shop took thirty seconds. Declan kept the engine running and headed inside to grab Lily.
She still lay there, eyes closed, and her lips were moving. Perhaps in prayer?
“Widow? You still with me?”
Her eyes opened. “Unfortunately for you, yes.” She sat up, groaning, and he rushed over to help her.
“Do you think you can put any pressure on it?”
She just looked at him.
“Right. Okay, then.” He shook out his hands and bent to scoop her up.
“Um, excuse me. What are you doing?”
“Carrying you.”
“I can hop on one leg if I have to.” She started to slide to the edge of the counter and gingerly placed all of her weight on her good leg. Hissed between her teeth. Hopped. Stopped. Tried again. Hissed again. “Come on, Lily. You’ve got this,” she muttered to herself.
“Okay, there, Grandma.” Declan tapped his watch. “I think I just turned one hundred waiting for you.”
She glared at him. “I stabbed myself with a knife, if you hadn’t noticed!”
“And you were worried I was going to be the one doing the stabbing.” At her further narrowed eyes, he bit back a smile. “All right, well, if you’re going to insist on doing everything yourself…” He started to turn.
She snatched his shirt and tugged him back around. “Wait.” Lily looked up at him with those luminous eyes. “Fine. Help me.”
He stepped closer. Too close, but he couldn’t move away. “What’s the magic word?”
She gritted her teeth—maybe not, this time, from the pain. “Please.”
“Good girl.” Then he scooped her up as gingerly as he could and tried not to think about how soft her curves felt against him. How well she fit in the crook of his arms.
How familiar this felt?—
How right.
Nope. How wrong .
He cradled her as he walked her right out into the alley toward the idling golf cart. “Your chariot awaits.”
“Wait, seriously? You—Declan Kelley—are breaking the law?” Her wide eyes flitted back to him.
Something thumped in his chest, and it took all his willpower to look away from her. “Extenuating circumstances.” He settled her ever-so-gently onto the soft tan passenger seat. “It was the only viable option.”
“Mm-hmm.”
He popped around to the driver’s side and glanced carefully about, taking the back roads toward the clinic. Hopefully Police Chief John York or one of his deputies wouldn’t be waiting around the corner.
Lily was quiet for a few moments when Declan looked over to make sure she hadn’t fainted. But she sat there watching him, gnawing on her bottom lip. “I’ll find a way to pay you back for this, you know.”
“Is that a threat?” And why couldn’t he help but smile as they bumped along the road? “You don’t owe me for helping you, Lily. It’s called basic human kindness. I’d hope if I was lying helpless and afraid?—”
“Hey!”
“—that you’d help me too.”
“Hmm. Maybe.” She leaned back against the seat, grimacing. Must be hurting pretty bad now that the adrenaline was wearing off.
“Hang tight. We’re almost there.”
She grunted, nodded. And said nothing more as he drove her to the clinic.
Several hours later, after a longer-than-usual wait at the clinic, Lily had been stitched up, medicated, and given an overdue tetanus shot. In the dim evening light, Declan pulled up on her street. Somehow, they’d managed to evade the Jonathon Island police. He’d become a criminal for her.
Lily Hart struck again.
He cut the engine, drummed his fingers along the steering wheel. “It feels like I should drop you off around the corner. You know, so nobody sees.”
She glanced at him sideways. “We’re not kids anymore, Declan. Or…”
She didn’t have to finish. Or a couple, sneaking around.
Declan swallowed against his dry throat. “No. We’re not.”
Instead, they were competitors. Enemies.
Except tonight, under the stars, with the moon illuminating her eyes, it didn’t exactly feel that way.
She’ll get her claws in you, Decky.
Nope. “Goodnight, Lil.” Oops, the nickname just slid out. He held his breath.
Her mouth tightened, and she drew in a breath. Then, “See you tomorrow, Slick.”
She got out and hobbled to her house.
And he drove away without looking back.